Ladera Ranch bills itself as "one of Orange County’s premier master-planned communities." The development sprouted out of the brush-covered hills of Southern California in 1999 and offered a slice of sunny perfection to anyone who could afford it. The newly paved streets are lined with saplings, American flags hang from porches, and buyers can choose from a handful of elegant home models. The community of approximately 8,000 households has its own schools, freeways, and shopping centers. Soon after Chris Jeon’s family moved there, the local branch of the American Society of Civil Engineers voted it Project of the Year.

The Jeons came to the U.S. from Korea in the 1980s. Chris’ father, Peter, studied at UCLA, racking up an impressive list of degrees: a bachelor’s, a master’s in mechanical engineering, and a medical degree in dental science. His wife, Jane, became a pharmacist, while Dr. Jeon ran his own orthodontics practice in Orange County. Chris was their eldest, a first-generation American, and his parents had high hopes for him.

He didn’t disappoint: National Honor Society, a 4.3 GPA, vice president of the Future Business Leaders of America. When other kids were shotgunning beers in the parking lot behind the cineplex, Jeon was home practicing piano and guitar. "My parents sacrificed a lot so their kids could have opportunities," Jeon says. He had no intention of wasting them. "I wanted to be the perfect kid for him," he says, referring to his father.

He wasn’t exactly perfect. In junior high, he assembled a large-enough collection of death metal – Slayer, In Flames, Cryptopsy – to alarm his Catholic parents, who threw it all out one day when he was at school. "I’ve never been so angry," Jeon remembers. In one of his first acts of rebellion, he slept in his car in the family driveway for a week.

When Jeon arrived at UCLA in 2008, he had the résumé of a classic overachiever. He joined a frat, drinking his first beer in April of his freshman year. He got properly hammered a few times after that but never lost focus on academics or his dream of eventually landing on Wall Street. "I wanted money, status, stock options, all of it," he says. "To me, that was the pinnacle of achievement."

But by junior year, he started to feel anxious, stifled – and not just by academics. At the fraternity, there was talk of going to Cancún for spring break. It would be awesome: They’d chase girls and get wasted just as they had the year before.